


Wrong

by Naemi



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: M/M, S/M (implicit), Sex Gone Wrong, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:24:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things just shouldn't be rushed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

 

Zeke loved Casey in every way he possibly could, but he loved him _best_ when the boy was panting and whimpering, begging for _more, more, fuck me, please, fuck me harder,_ and Casey never denied him.

Normally. But today, nothing was quite normal. They had talked it through, thought it over, discussed and decided every detail that seemed important, and in the end, Casey had agreed. If he was reluctant, Zeke couldn't tell. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Casey had allowed— _consented to_ —the roughness of what they chose to call 'the game.' Zeke would bruise, claw, choke, and _fuck_ the living hell out of Casey, satisfying a dark fantasy that had lurked below the surface for too long.

“Stop. Stop!” Casey squirmed, trying to crawl away from Zeke, not succeeding.

_“Fridge!”_

Okay. Somehow, it seemed to have gotten _a little_ out of hand.

Zeke let out a frustrated growl and sat back, rubbing his face. “Come on. You said you'd be fine.” He almost sounded like he was pouting, fully aware that he was behaving like a five year old.

“Well, guess what? I'm not!” Casey snapped, rolling to his back and catching his breath. His tears made it dead clear that Zeke had indeed gone too far.

 _“Fine,”_ Zeke bellowed at him and reached for his smokes, turning his back at Casey. He didn't want to see the hurt in Casey's eyes, although he knew it was there. And yet he refused to—could not—comfort him. Knowing he was the definition of an asshole, complete with his picture next to the dictionary entry, didn't change shit for Zeke. The words simply would not roll over his tongue to pass his lips.

The sobs eventually died, which was even worse; the silence bore contempt. He lit a new cigarette on the butt of the old one, stood up and reached for his shorts. _Adieu, arousal,_ he thought and couldn't help but grimace at his own failure.

Zeke took a deep breath as he heard Casey stand up as well. He fumbled with his own jeans, incapable of saying something as simple as, “Sorry.” All he wanted now was to get out of this room and have a shot or three of whiskey.

“Look at me.” Casey sighed. The hurt was gone, replaced by a calm exhaustion, and he almost sounded like he was talking to himself.

Zeke glanced back over his shoulder to find his assumption confirmed; Casey stood by the mirror, trying to get a proper view of the marks on his skin.

“I got scared,” Casey continued, weighing his words as he spoke, turning his attention to Zeke. “You had a fire in your eyes that I've never seen before. I couldn't . . . couldn't play along, somehow. I wanted to, but—I was scared.”

Their eyes met in the mirror.

“I'm sorry.”

Zeke cleared his throat, not trusting his voice. “I should be the one to apologize.”

“You would rather bite off your tongue.”

“Guess so.”

“See? I right your wrongs.”

Zeke _did_ love Casey in every way he possibly could, but Casey—Casey definitely loved him more.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful Moit, who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
>  
> 
> _Feedback is love._


End file.
